


A Powerful Thrall

by ac_123



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #DrunkenKissesChallenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ac_123/pseuds/ac_123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>For months after this he will be able to lift his hands and embrace the pungency of blood so redolent, so fierce it could never satisfy him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Powerful Thrall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the #DrunkenKissesChallenge on Tumblr.
> 
> I worry I missed the point of the challenge, but whatever. It's nice to be writing for this fandom again.

Hannibal presses his fingertips into Will’s tight trapezius, just beneath the arch leading to his bowed neck. Will stifles a moan. His throat muscles tighten, his tongue clenches down, and the break in his fortitude releases like the first gasp of a deflating balloon. Hannibal smiles. He leans in close to Will, chest barely touching back, and kneads Will’s shoulders.

Blood flows in the wake of Hannibal’s hands. He can feel it in his chest: the surge just under Will’s rough skin, its lapping waves and furious whirlpools. He can smell it everywhere. It soaks into his hands. For months after this he will be able to lift his hands and embrace the pungency of blood so redolent, so fierce it could never satisfy him.

Will’s heart is thundering in Hannibal’s ears. His head hands loosely. Hannibal had performed his due diligence. He had effortlessly made Will glassy-eyed and compliant before bringing him to dinner, but the determined corner of Will’s psyche that kept him conscious made Hannibal’s preparations more difficult than necessary. Will’s body was limp and heavy as Hannibal dragged him down stairs. His mouth staunchly refused to open, regardless of Hannibal’s demands or the forks being jabbed at his lips. His arms held tight to his sides when Hannibal began to coax Will’s sweat-stained, off-white undershirt off of his body. Even now, Will’s shoulders shake from his failed effort to not stay still, to get up and fight back and run away. The sweet tenor of adrenaline rings in Hannibal’s nose.

He could sense the same smell earlier, when Will balled his hands around Hannibal’s dress shirt and pulled them chest-to-chest. It filled the room as their lips touched. Hannibal wanted to drink it in, to flounder in it, so he opened his stunning mouth and gave way to Will’s firm, insistent tongue.

Hannibal lays his lips on the crux of Will’s neck. A shock of electricity flares up from the gentlest touch. Hannibal presses closer. His eyes flutter shut. A tongue flickers out from between his serrated teeth to mark the spot. Hannibal wraps his arms around Will, cinching Will’s arms to his sides in a firm embrace. Will makes a noise of protest—or the pressure of Hannibal’s arms are forcing the excess air from Will’s chest. Hannibal’s fingers trace small circles on Will’s shoulders, skirting over the flushed skin.

And then he bit.


End file.
